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It happens every night the minute before midnight. I feel its slimy tendrils swirling in the air at the foot of my bed. I want to scream, but absolute fear paralyzes me. I close my eyes and wait for the things to slip under my blanket and try to pull me off. They always slip off though, at the last moment where my body is teetering at the edge of the bed. Control of my body slowly returns and I crawl back up my bed holding back sobs so I don’t bother the other tenants.
I remember the first time it happened to me. I had spent the whole day thinking about girl. I always wanted to ask her out, but she was a freshman and I was a senior. I didn’t want everyone to think I was a pedophile or something.
But there she was, swinging at the playground I passed on the way to my house everyday. It was the first time we were alone out of school. I gathered up some courage and walked to her. “Mind if I take this swing?” I asked as I walked slowly toward the swing next to her. She kept her eyes down and her long brown hair waved a little in the wind.She didn’t say anything, so I sat down and started swinging a little.
I wasn’t really paying attention, but just as I was about to ask her out she had snuck up next to me, raked my arm with her sharp nails screaming something in a foreign language. She stabbed me in the throat with her finger and gave me a creepy doll laugh. I Just lay in the little pit under the swing completely frozen. She skipped away. I think her name was Ann.
That night I woke up in cold sweat at 11:59 pm. Weird I had thought, I usually slept like a baby until morning. That’s when I saw those tendrils, swirling just beyond my vision. Creating unseen shapes. I threw the blanket over my head praying it would protect me from whatever monster lurked.
It didn’t. I screamed and clawed at my bed while it dragged me toward the edge, slipping off at the last second. The slime soaked my legs as I curled up and sobbed as my parents burst in. They tried to comfort me, but I knew. I knew they would never believe me.I knew they thought I had just wet the bed or something. But I know now I should’ve told them. At least tried to convince them. Because now I have no one to turn to.
That was five years ago. Every night for fight years I fought back screaming at the top of my lungs. I wait every night wishing for it to finally pull me off and kill me. I wish for death with every step I take toward my bed. I set the alarm for 8 every night hoping that I might have not be awake to hear it.
I decide tonight is the night I will bring it to an end. I bring a big kitchen knife to bed. I slash at the tentacles as they slide up my leg, but the knife passes through it like a shadow and I cut my leg. It is only they I realize, the tendrils have always been in my imagination, but I can no longer get rid of them. They have become a dirty, evil part of me. So I keep slashing the knife all over my body until weakness causes my limbs to numb and I drop the knife.
I lay there blood flowing from cuts all over my body and I feel a sense of peace before my eyes fades into everlasting darkness.
Credit To: Formidala